Lessons in People
by kickstergal
Summary: CH 7 UP 'Sometimes the heart overrules the head, Bones. You know that. It’s an inevitable fact of life.' Series about BB relationship leading up to the two year mark. Mostly an excuse for bickering and fluff.
1. Nothing is what it seems

DISCLAIMER: Do not own Bones. It's starting to depress me that I have to keep saying that. One day. I have a supplier for the evil robots but the flying monkeys keep mutating into flying pigs…

"So. Bren. Why, exactly, in the name of god do you want to go out in the field?"

Brennan looked up.

Angela was perched on the end of her office couch, looking at her. Studying her, more like, with that familiar look, as if she were a particularly complex face to draw.

She took a deep breath.

"I felt I needed to gain experience in field environments in order to gain new skills. I'm an anthropologist, Ang. I need to be able to function in all possible environments."

Angela laughed. That wasn't a great indication of the success of her rehearsed answer.

"Honey, I know I'm the girl who believed six consecutive males when that said they were unattached, but even I know that's a lie."

She didn't deny it. She simply frowned, analysing the words she'd said.

"How did you know? It's a valid reason."

"Yes, it is, and maybe some part of you believes that. But a)- no one voluntarily swans through grisly murder scenes, and dangerous, uncontrolled situations, with no better reason than two expand their skill base,

She frowned. "I don't think _swan_-"

Angela continued over her. "-And _two_, you have already swanned through grisly mass graves and such all over the world. Trust me. You have the skill base."

She was silent, acknowledging the truth of the words.

Angela studied her. Brennan was sitting behind her desk, unconsciously straightening the folders and piles of paperwork. Everything neat and tidy. Everything in its place.

Angela spoke, her voice gentle. "Speak to me, Bren."

Brennan met her best friend's eyes. There was no judgement there, like there had been in Booth's when she'd told him she wanted full participation on the case. She only saw compassion and a wealth of understanding, like always.

She relaxed slightly, against the seat.

"Okay." She spoke neutrally, no emotion flowing underneath the words for Angela to fish from.

"I have a very structured life. I come to work, do my job. Go home. I go all over the world, but never make connections with the people. Only with the dead. I don't have many friends. I understand the ones that are already gone more than those that are still here…"

She picked up a post-it, carefully, precisely folding it into a tight square.

"…Pete was right. He thought I was cold, and I am. I function easily and well with dead bodies, but I have to- I _need _to figure out the world of people. Alive people."

She met Angela's gaze.

"I just didn't want to wake up one day to find I'm more corpse than human being, with nothing to give, nothing to learn."

She dropped her eyes to the post-it in her hands, giving a small half-laugh, shaking her head.

"It's ridiculous, really."

Angela stood up, and came around the desk to crouch beside her chair.

"No, honey. Not ridiculous. Profound. But, you'll never become a corpse. Know why?"

She stared at Angela, fighting the doubt spiralling through her.

"Why?"

Because you care far too much. You work relentlessly to find these people, give them a name and a voice, because you care. Booth would never take on someone without a heart-someone who's cold. He knows people, sweetie."

Brennan was silent. Angela saw her clench her fists around the paper in her hands, still upset. Still doubting she could belong in the real world.

Her smile became mischievous. Time to change the subject.

"And he knows _you_ very well."

Bingo.

Brennan's head shot up, something akin to panic instantly replacing the misery in her eyes.

"He doesn't know me, Angela. I picked him because he gets all the interesting cases, and tend to interact with people the most. And he's an alpha male, so he gets through all the bureaucratic nonsense at a faster rate, thus enabling me to do my half of the job more efficiently."

She frowned a little as a thought occurred to her.

"Although he doesn't give me enough credit. And he can be very self-righteous. And bossy. But he doesn't completely shut me off, like the other FBI agents."

Angela chimed in.

"Plus he's hot, is very good at reading people and their emotions, and is developing a keen interest in reading _you_."

Satisfied she'd given her friend something more productive to brood about, she squeezed Brennan's arm and stood up, sauntering to the door.

Brennan stared at her friend, thrown by this new take on the matter. Surprise, definitely, was the fore running emotion, but under that, if she analysed the feeling correctly, she was a little intrigued.

But if she told Angela that she'd have a field day.

She shrugged, putting on a casual front.

"I will be working with Agent Booth on a purely professional basis, Angela."

"First lesson in dealing with people, hon. Nothing is ever what it seems." Angela rubbed her hands together, thinking over Brennan's habitual nature and Booth's reputation for being just slightly left of centre.

She grinned.

"He is going to drive you crazy, Bren."

Brennan raised her chin, firmly determined. "I'm sure Booth and I will-"

"-Bones!"

Angela raised her brows at her friend as Booth strode into the room, and waving a hand in greeting at Booth, sidled casually over to sit on the couch. No way was she missing this.

Booth waved a distracted hand at Angela, focussing on Brennan.

"Let's go, Bones, we've gotta live one."

Brennan blinked at him, puzzled.

"Booth, I'm a forensic anthropologist, not a medical doctor. I only work with the bones of the dead."

Booth paused in the act of getting Brennan's coat for her.  
"Bones, it's a turn of phrase- it means we have a dead body to go and see."

"Oh. Then, why didn't you just say that?"

He blinked at her. "You're kidding, right?"

Brennan turned to Angela.

"Are you following this conversation? Because I'm having trouble."

Angela grinned at her. "Every word."

She huffed and turned back to Booth, who was now stuffing instruments back into her examination kit.

"Booth! You can't just barge in here and expect me to leap after you. I have paperwork, and a meeting very shortly- I can't just leave!"  
Booth looked at Angela.

"She's kidding, right?"

Angela shook her head sadly. "Unfortunately, no."

He fixed Brennan with a stare.

Angela watched in fascination as her friend wilted slightly, then stood tall, her eyes flashing and chin raised, staring back at Booth.

"Bones, you're the one that wanted to go out in the field. I can't just call up our victims and ask them please to die at a more convenient time for you, okay? Now are you coming?"

She pressed her lips together, considering.

One beat.

Two.

She could always figure out how far she could push him another time. But it didn't mean she liked giving in.

Brennan glared at him. "Yes."

"Finally! Let's go, Bones. Move it or lose it."

He strode out, her examination kit and her jacket over his arm.

Brennan threw up her hands, casting a can-you-believe-_that_ look at an amused Angela, and followed on Booth's heels, yanking her bag back.

"Lose _what_, exactly?"

Booth's frustrated growl was cut off by the sliding doors closing behind them.

Angela leaned back and sighed, then spoke aloud to the empty room.

"Yep. Nothing is _ever_ what it seems." 

**Author's note:** Started out as wanting to do a take on why Brennan chose to leave the lab and then thought I might expand it. What do you think? Oneshot or series? Guess it depends on the reviews…like how I slid that in there very not obviously? Thanks tremendously to all readers and reviewers equally, and have a fantastic week!


	2. Signs of friendship

Disclaimer: Flying monkeys still not going so well, so my Bones takeover will be delayed until they stop baa-ing. Not so good for silent attacks. So until then, do not own, therefore, do not sue.

"Bones!"

She didn't move.

"Bones!"

She kept typing. He was still down the hall, but for reasons beyond her he liked to announce to the whole facility he was looking for her.

"There you are!" He said it like he hadn't known she'd be sitting in her office, trying to finish her book for her deadline. Like it wasn't one of two places he'd have to check at this hour- the platform in the lab or her office.

She figured it was a male thing.

"Good morning, Booth."

He ignored her attempt at a social nicety.

"Bones, we have to get cracking on the Walker case; he's gonna walk if you don't give me something stronger. I need evidence, and I need it yesterday-what do you have?"

He strode into the room as he pronounced this, for some reason glancing at her coffee and frowning slightly, then looking expectantly at her.

Irked for no good reason other than the fact he'd overlooked her greeting, after he'd specifically _told_ her to be more polite, she snapped.

"It's not like I can pull a bird out of a hat here Booth; there are processes and procedures that have to be dealt with, and they take time. I stayed here all night going through what we have-but until I-"

"-Wait." He interrupted. She could almost hear _simmer down, Bones_, running through his mind.

It was odd- she'd never been able to guess what someone was thinking before she'd met Booth. It must be a by-product of observing his interrogational style.

Fingers snapped in front of her face, directing her attention back to a grim-faced Booth.

"Bones, you stayed here all night?"

She threw up her hands, exasperated.

"Well, you wanted the evidence."

"Yeah, but you need to sleep. You get cranky when you haven't slept."

Highly insulted, she glared at him. "I do not!"

"Yeah, you do. Remember last week when you pulled that all-nighter, and then you yelled at me for breathing?"

"I did not yell at you for breathing!" She'd yelled at him for breathing too close to her when she was trying to work. There was a _difference_.

"Bones, you were ready to pull a Jackie Chan on me."

"Who is-"

"-You would have kicked me into next Tuesday if I hadn't taken two very large steps backwards."

She glared at him, then picked up on the glint in his eyes. Oh. He was teasing her.

He did that a lot now, and she'd noticed it had become almost a game with him to see when she would realise. Well, two could play at that.

She tried to fix a sympathetic look on her face.

"So you're afraid of me. Booth, you don't have to worry. I won't hurt you."

He stiffened.

"I'm not _worried_, Bones, I-"

"I mean, I know I can be a little intimating-"

"-I am _not_-"

"-Some males can just feel threatened by strong women." She finished solemnly, staring at his appalled face.

Then ruined it by smirking.

He glared at her. "You know, Bones, you really need to work on your sense of humour."

She shrugged, supremely unconcerned, and turned back to the keyboard, remembering too late why she'd meant to close her document when he'd walked in.

"Watcha working on?"

It was her turn to stiffen. She recognised the tone. Booth's I'm Going To Pry Information Out of You So Help Me tone.

"Nothing. Just some bone analysis notes."

"No, you're not." He sounded too casual. That was bad. Casual was very, very bad. It meant he was about to pounce.

She very slowly moved her arm towards the mouse, hoping to close the document before he saw.

"What do you mean, I'm not?"

"Because you work on your notes on Thursdays. Today is Friday. You work on your book Friday mornings, for exactly fifteen minutes."

Oh. Was she that predictable?

He must have read the look on her face, because he came around the desk and pulled her chair around to face him.

"Plus, you did the death stare. You do the death stare when you're lying."

She couldn't help laughing. "The death stare?"

"Yeah, the death stare. Almost as interesting as the _I'm squinting_ stare, but not quite as fascinating." He grinned at her, watching as she struggled between trying not to be pleased he found her fascinating, and somewhat appalled he labelled her stares.

Then again, she did tend to label his gestures and tones of voice.

She pulled back, flustered, and hastily closed the screen, batting his hand away as he reached for the mouse.

"Hey, Bones, I wanted to read that!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

She glanced up. "Booth, the charm smile is not an infallible weapon."

He sighed, giving up, sitting on the edge of her desk as she smothered a yawn, trying not to give in to the temptation to skull the rest of her coffee and go and order six more.

Booth was looking at her, giving her the I Find Something About You Intriguing look.

She smile tentatively, unsure of the situation.

"What?"

He shrugged.

"Just, you talk about processes and procedures and the correct order of things, and then you stay up all night to try and make them go faster."

She mimicked his shrug, trying hard not to be glad at his approval, and failing.  
"I just want to close the case, Booth."

"I know." He looked at her a moment longer, and the pleased feeling in her stomach fluttered a little harder. Then he pointed a finger at her, shifting the mood.

"Well, I figured out one thing from the Walker evidence."

She frowned at the forms spread before her on the desk, perplexed.

"What?"

"Now I know why you weren't drinking decaf."

She blinked.

"You noticed I drink decaf?"

He made his _of course I did_ wave of the hand at her.

"Sure."

She smiled at him, oddly pleased that he was starting to notice other things about her. In the last six months he'd made plenty of observations during the course of her work, but they had mainly to do with her lack of prowess in interpersonal relations, not her choice of hot beverages.

And she was noticing things about him too. He was a lot smarter than he let on. He was funny, although she was constantly trying not to laugh at his jokes. His ego was big enough already.

And he was sneaky, too, making her open up somehow, although when she tried to pin down the reasons why, she couldn't find a rational explanation that fit. Maybe if she studied his interrogation habits more closely.

Maybe it was just a sign she was coming to regard him as a good friend.

Maybe that's why she was constantly noticing things about him, and not judging or analysing. Just noticing.

Angela would have called it a break though in her people skills.

She just called it a heightened sense of observation. What she didn't know was why it was Booth that catalysed all these changes in her.

She cleared her throat, a little off-balance.

"Well, caffeine is a highly effective stimulant in short doses-however, if one over indulges the way you seem wont to do, one tends to build up a tolerance-" She broke off, embarrassed. She tended to spout facts and figures when she was uncomfortable, and usually came off distant and cold- when she was just trying to relate.

Booth just laughed. "Yes, I do have a remarkable ability to resist stimulants, Bones. And excellent use of the word _wont._ You do have to admit, that coffee tastes pretty damned good right now."

She smiled. Booth went with her quirks a lot more now, she noticed. He let her be who she was.

"Yeah. It does. Taste good, I mean."

He snagged it off the desk and held it aloft teasingly as she snatched for it.

"Come on, Bones, I'll buy you another six of these. We have a lot to get through."

She started to gather their case notes together, watching out of the corner of her eyes as he took a swig from her coffee, making a face at it.

"No sugar, Bones?"

"It's bad for you."

"Of course it is." He muttered, but softly, so they could both pretend she didn't hear.

He picked up of her art pieces and studied it, frowning.

He shrugged, put it back down upside down and back to front, and sauntered to the door. She smothered a smile and joined him.

He was guiding her out the door when he spoke again.

"By the way, good morning to you too, Bones."

**Author's note:** Hope you like. Will start writing more BB orientated stuff in the next chapter, as they near the two year mark. PS. Stephen Fry- The Man. Just so we're clear.

Thanks readers and reviewers, espec. **Bellabun**.


	3. Trust Me

DISCLAIMER: No Bones owning for me. The evil robots got rusted in this storm we just had, and the flying monkey's have eaten through my entire supply of cat food.

"Booth."

"What, Bones?"

"When can we go home?"

"Bones, please-"

"-We've collected all the evidence, the Sheriff left, Zach got a ride back, your FBI agents have gone. Even the remains of the body left with Zach. Why am I still here?"

Booth sighed. He was exasperated.

She liked that she could be demanding and pushy with him, and usually just end up with a Stare or a Heavenward Look. Sometimes a short lecture, which generally she considered, then disregarded as too psychological.

But, perversely, the fact she could get away with it made her check her behaviour a little more often.

But not this time.

"Booth?"

They were stuck in a cave, in a forest, in the middle of nowhere.

Booth apparently knew the area well and thus had expected her to hike along behind him for an hour, along with Zach, the local sheriff, and two hulking FBI agent, to examine the remains of a body in said cave.

Which she had been fine with. Until, about ten minutes into the hike, it had started to rain.

_Don't worry, Bones, I know the weather out here. It'll pass_. She'd believed him. Until the light pattering of the rain had become a forceful downpour, and she'd been soaked to the skin. Then she'd had hours of bone analysis, all the while gritting her teeth against the cold. Booth _had _offered his jacket, but she'd refused, knowing he'd be more pissed that she was cold.

She found it grimly amusing, when she thought about it, that she was willing to suffer just so that he would, too.

"Bones, just trust me, okay? I want to show you something."

"Oh, trust you. Okay. Like you told me to trust you about the weather?"

"Bones_, usually_ the weather out here is pretty good, okay?"

"Well, _usually _is not good enough. I have six cases pending next week, and I'm probably going to end up with the flu."

He looked back at her from where he was standing at the caves entrance, the light from her torch catching his expression in the fading light.

"What?"

He smirked at her. "Bones, are you having a tantrum?"

She glared at him. "No."

"Looks like a tantrum to me."

"I am not having a tantrum, Booth. I'm just tired, and cold, and I want to go home. Now."

He watched her, grinning. "Bones, you are putting my four year old to shame, here."

She swept her damp hair back into a ponytail. "Shut up."

"Ouch, I'm wounded."

She glared at him, too cold to be enjoying this argument like she would under normal circumstances.

"I'm leaving, Booth."

"Okay."

She paused in the act of gathering up her things, suspicious.

"Okay?"

He made a go ahead gesture. "Be my guest."

Her chin came up, determined. "Fine."

She yanked her bag onto her arm, shivering, and stalked past him out of the cave, into the rain.

She was halfway down the slope leading to the trail when she heard her name.

"Hey, Bones?"

"What, Booth?"

"You know the way back, right?"

She swiped back the hair plastered to her forehead. Well, no. Not exactly. She'd been more concerned with following Booth, thinking about her nice, warm apartment, which contained her nice, warm bed.

"Of course I do, Booth." She'd find her way back if it killed her.

He nodded. "Oh, okay. Well, see you later."

She turned to go.

"By the way, Bones?"

"What?"

He looked concernedly at her. "You know about the snakes, right?"

_Snakes?_

She shrugged casually. "Sure."

"And the bears?"

Bears? Snakes she could deal with, but bears? She wasn't _that_ good at karate, although she was fairly sure she'd be practicing those skills on Booth in the near future.

She studied him.

"Booth?"

He studied his fingernails, nonchalantly.

"Yes, Bones?"

"Do you really want me to stay?"

"With every fibre of my being."

She eyed him, and he looked back solemnly. He was mocking her. She was sure of it.

She huffed and strode back up the incline, dumping her bag back down in the cave.

He laughed at her, peeling off his jacket.

"For that, Bones, you deserve the jacket."

"I don't want-"

"Bones. Take. The damned. Jacket."

She recognised the tone. It meant do what I say, Bones, or I will _never_ let you interrogate anyone again.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine."

"I'm so pleased."

She slipped on the coat, biting back a small moan as the warmth of his body lingering in the coats material suffused her with warmth.

"Better?"

She shrugged, still a little angry at being held hostage here. "A little."

She saw the hurt flicker through his gaze for a moment, before he turned to stare out at the faint silver line of the sun setting through the storm clouds.

She sighed.

She wasn't that mad. Just cold. And it really wasn't his fault he'd gotten the weather wrong. She just trusted him to the extent she'd somehow managed to believe he could predict the weather. Which was irrational, anyway.

"Booth?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks for the coat. It's really warm."

She saw the corner of his mouth quirk up, and relaxed.

"You're welcome, Bones."

She looked around at the cave, flashing her torch on the remains of the crime scene, on the walls of the cave, on Booth.

"So, why did you say we had to wait until the sun went down?"

He came over to stand close to her.

"Close your eyes."

She blinked.

"What?"

"Close your eyes, Bones."

Was he crazy? Had his brain been addled by the cold?

"Why, Booth?"

He threw up his hands, exasperated.

"I try to do something nice for you, and I get questions!"

"I'm stuck in a cave in the middle of nowhere with a crazy person who wants me to close my eyes! I think I'm entitled to be somewhat curious about that!" She shot back.

He sighed. Again. She was really running up a tally with him tonight.

"Do you trust me, Bones?"

He was looking at her with an odd expression, like he was trying to prepare himself for her answer.

_Why is this so important to him?_

She was certain of her answer, at least.  
"With every fibre of my being." She replied, trying to keep her tone light.

He quirked a smile at her and cocked his head teasingly.

"So close your eyes."

She met his gaze in the torchlight for a beat, then closed them.

She heard him move to stand close behind her, then jumped slightly as his hand moved to cover her eyes.

"Booth, you're freezing."

"Yeah, well, this forensic anthropologist stole my clothes."

"I did_ not_-" She broke off as he wrapped an arm firmly around her waist and turned her back in the direction of the cave.

"Now, no peeking until I say." He breathed into her ear, and she shivered, although she wasn't entirely certain it was from the cold.

She cleared her throat. "Booth, it's overcast outside, and also, night. You just turned the torch off, and you have your hand over my eyes. Even if I wanted to, how am I going to see anything?"

She felt his chuckle vibrate against her back, and smiled too, reluctantly.

"Just trust me."

"Okay." He'd earned her trust, in the last year. Earned it tenfold.

"Now, we're going to take a few steps forward."

He walked her forward until she thought they must be roughly in the middle of the cave.

"Now, open your eyes."

She opened them.

"What-" She broke off and gasped as she glanced up.

All over the roof of the cave glowed hundreds of tiny lights. It was like having a piece of the night sky glittering just above her, close enough to touch, a promise of safety, of light in the darkness.

"Oh, Booth…how did you know this would be here?"

"I mentioned to Hodgins where we'd be, and he didn't shut up for the next fifteen minutes about the glow worms that inhabited these caves. It's kind of burned into my brain."

She bit back a laugh, staring in wonder up at the glowing lights. "What did he tell you?"

"That they glow."

When she didn't reply, knowing he was being vague on purpose, he sighed.

"He told me that only the females glow. That their light, shining through the darkness, attracts a mate. And…something about arachnophobia."

"Arachnocampa luminosa."

"Bless you."

"No, that's what Hodgins was trying to tell you. The name of the species."

"Well, if you knew, why did you ask me?" He sounded put out.

She smiled, and leant back a little into him, seeking his warmth. He stiffened a little, then relaxed, moving his hands from her waist to her shoulders.

"You tend to put things in a different light, Booth. You pick up on the whimsical aspects of science…and you show me."

"I'm whimsical now? Bones, let's just go. This was a bad idea."

She reached behind her and clutched his arm as he made to step away, needing to explain.

"You make me see things differently, Booth. That's all. I look at the roof of the cave and I see luciferan, luciferase and adenosine triphosphate mixing to create a chemical reaction in the glow worms. You look at it and see the females becoming a beacon of light for their mates."

He shifted, gripping her hands back, and she stared towards his face, glad it was pitch black, that the light from the roof couldn't illuminate her expression for him to read.

"It's just…I trust you to show me a different way. I learn from you, Booth. I learn how to be a person."

He brought his hand up, finding her face, and she closed her eyes against the warmth of his hand.

"Bones, you are a person. And even though you're manically obsessed with detail, and bossy and just plain mean sometimes, I still like you. In fact, the whole glow worms' thing reminded me…"

"What?" He was about to tell her she reminded him of a bug. She knew it.

"Well, the whole light in the darkness thing. Kind of reminded me of you. I trust you to help me find my way back when things get rough, you know? "

"Oh." That was big. She had to say something, let him know it was good he'd opened up this much. Or something. Angela would have known.

"Booth, the established relationship between us is indicative of the fact that we trust each other whole-heartedly. It means we are friends, and as such it's natural that each of us relies upon the other for guidance."

That's right. Talk him to death. That would make him relax.

She heard the smile in his voice as he spoke.

"Trust is important, Bones. I'm glad we have that."

She just squeezed his hands, then pulled away, suddenly all too aware that she was standing in a cave with him, in the dark, with civilization at least an hour and fifteen minutes away.

"So, what do you say we go find some coffee, Bones?"

She snorted. "Only if you're buying."

"I just showed you the pretty glowing bugs, Bones. _You're_ buying_ me_ coffee."

"I just worked five hours in the freezing cold, Booth. I think you owe me for that."

She blinked, startled, when he clicked the flash light back on.

He shone it in her face, and she batted it away.

"I gave you my jacket, Bones."

"I didn't _want_-"

"-Bones, I prefer my coffee with cream, in case you forgot."

He grinned at the growling noise she made under her breath as she grabbed her pack.

"I have an hour hike of traipsing behind you, listening to stories about snakes and bears. I deserve compensation."

"I have an hour hike of you stomping through the forest, ranting about how cold it is. I deserve a freaking medal!"  
They glared at each other.

The rain poured down outside.

One beat.

Two beats.

Booth sighed. "How about you drive?"

She laughed. "After a long hike? In the rain? I'm not that stupid. Coffee or nothing."

He pointed the torch at her. "One coffee, and you buy the donuts."

She considered. "Deal."

They left the cave, Booth pretending not to help her down the slope, Brennan pretending to let him.

She glanced back at the cave.

"Hey, Booth?"

"Bones, you cannot possibly be cold already."

She ignored this. "Thank you for showing me the glow worms."  
He grinned at her, turning to light her way through the night.

"You're welcome, Bones."

**Author's note:** Kay, hands up who found that romantic? I mean, I know I said there was a body found there- but it went back with the hulking FBI's and Zack…Oh, well. Um, glow worms are found in NZ and Oz- did a little research on them, but wasn't sure if they're found in the US. Let us all pretend they are.

Thanks all readers and reviewers, and have a great week.


	4. Get to me

DISCLAIMER: Have begun work on training my flatmate as an ultra-elite Bones-taking-over agent, but she keeps hitting me, instead. Don't own it. Yet. Mwah. Ha. Ha.

Brennan sat in the FBI room, attempting to listen to a lecture being given by Cullen, assistant director of the FBI.

Booth had convinced her to come.

At the time, she'd agreed, mainly because he'd told her it would be about interrogation. However, three minutes into the lecture it had been plain it was in fact about license and passport forgery. Which she did not care about. At all.

And when she had to tried to subtly sneak towards the door, glaring at Booth, who sat grinning smugly at a desk behind her, Cullen had fixed her with a stare and politely inquired whether she planned on disrupting his entire talk, or just the first five minutes.

She'd sunk back into her seat, gritting her teeth, trying not to growl at Booth's whispered, "For shame, Bones."

She would kill him for this. She would definitely kill him. She'd made these resolutions before, of course but this time, she'd actually do it.

As Cullen droned on, she began plotting the various ways she'd get Booth back.

She'd put salt in his coffee. She'd…well, she'd never actually plotted revenge before, but she was going to ask Hodgins for tips, since he'd taken revenge on Zack on many different occasions, although she was never sure exactly what for.

Her phone vibrated, indicating a text message, and she seized it gratefully, ignoring the affronted stare from the FBI agent next to her, who appeared to be genuinely interested in the many various and highly uninteresting ways one could forge a licence.

She flipped it open, hoping there was a crisis at the lab. She didn't even care if Hodgins and Zack had blown up the entire lab this time, as long as she could leave, and never, ever come back.

_So. Bones. I'm bored._

Booth. Served him right. She wasn't going to alleviate his boredom. In fact…

She quietly flipped her phone closed, smiled apologetically at the FBI agent next to her, and leant forward, to all intents and purposes, and to all FBI agents wearing bright purple ties who happened to be watching, completely absorbed in the lecture.

She could practically feel Booth's frown burning a hole in her back.

She didn't turn around.

Her phone buzzed again.

The guy next to her frowned. She gave a polite smile, and sneakily flipped open the phone, one eye on Cullen, who had moved onto to holographic seals.

_Humour me here, Bones. If you don't reply, I'm gonna ring you._

Ha. She wasn't scared. Her phone's ring tone was on silent.

She put the phone pointedly on the desk next to her.

It buzzed again, and she snatched it up, hiding it in her lap.

Cullen paused for a moment in this incredibly boring speech, and she smiled angelically at him. It constantly surprised her that she wanted the approval of this man. Angela told her it was because Booth held him in such high regard.

She thought it was because she wanted to avoid the lectures she invariably got from Booth when she offended Cullen.

_Last chance._

Ha. No way was she falling for that. This was going to be the one occasion when, against all the odds, despite the mind-numbingly dull topic and Booth's harassment, she was going to impress Cullen with her superb concentration and-

Her phone starting ringing. The "Man with the Hex." She knew the song because Booth had played it at least twenty-six times in the car last week. And sung. Every time.

"Dr Brennan!"

She hastily shut off the phone, and looked guiltily at Cullen, all the while cursing Booth inwardly. If she blamed Booth, she'd just look stupid, and she was doing a fine enough job of that all on her own.

"Doctor Brennan. Is my lecture boring you? Am I keeping you from more interesting pursuits, perhaps?"

She shook her head, inching slightly lower in her seat. "No, sir."

"Good."

He continued talking, and the agent next to her gave a sanctimonious little shake of his head, and fixed his attention frontward again.

She did the same, her cheeks red. Well, there went her brilliant notion of impressing Booth's boss.

Wait. She shouldn't be blaming herself. This was entirely Booth's fault. She decided to focus her entire energies for the rest of the lecture on blaming Booth instead.

The muffled chuckle from the desk behind her told her he sure as hell knew it.

She managed to be interested for the next eight and a half minutes through the supreme concentration of her will, and the extreme desire to not get into any more trouble.

Then she felt a poke on her shoulder.

She ignored it.

Another poke.

She ignored that too.

She heard a sigh, and smiled. Ha, she knew if she ignored him-

Something poked her hard in the shoulder.

She whirled around, grabbing for Booth's pen.

"Booth!"

"Bones!" He mimicked.

"Dr Brennan!" Cullen thundered.

They stopped. She met Booth's eyes, and they both looked toward the front of the room.

Cullen stood utterly still, the only indication of his anger a single vein popping out of his forhead.

She wondered if now would be a good time to suggest prescription medicine to correct that.

"Uh oh. This is bad." Booth muttered.

"Since, Dr Brennan, you have more interest in grabbing Agent Booth's pen than in my lecture, you are excused. Leave."

She gathered up her purse, mortified. And really, really wanting to hurt Booth. A lot. Also, the idiot next to her, who was looking at her like she'd contaminate him.

Ah, what the hell.

She leant close.

"You know, the outcome of this is that you'll be assigned to checking forgeries. For the rest of your life."

She turned, leaving the agent looking suitably appalled.

She glared at Booth as she passed, and he shook his head at her, tutting audibly.

"Agent Booth, since you have developed a highly inappropriate fondness for poking Dr Brennan, you are excused, too. And if you want to avoid disciplinary action, Agent Booth, I want a five page report on the topic of the lecture, from both of you, on my desk first thing tomorrow."

Booth looked horrified. "But, sir- I-"

"Agent Booth, do-you-really-want-to-push-me-right-now."

Booth visibly wilted. "No, sir."

"Good. Get out of here."

They trooped out of the room.

As the door closed behind them, she whacked Booth in the arm.

"You jerk!"

"You were bored out of your brain, anyway, Bones."

"Because of you! You the one that told me to come to this! You told me it was an interrogation lecture!"

He smirked at her. "Whoops. Now, how did I get that wrong?"

She ran a hand through her hair, agitated.

"Now Cullen hates me even more, I can never face half of those FBI agents again-"

"-He doesn't _hate_-"

"-And that's the first time I've been thrown out of a room in-"

She stopped. "That's the first time I've been thrown out of a room."

"Well, maybe it's time to live a little, Bones."

She rounded on him as they turned out of the FBI building.  
"You didn't answer me. Why did you want me there if all you were going to do was _poke_ me?"

He looked uncomfortable, suddenly. She didn't care. She wanted answers. Now.

"Well?"

He sighed. "Well, you know…I knew I was going to be uncomfortable, and I figured, what kind of a partner would I be if I didn't allow my colleague to suffer along with me?"

She laughed derisively as they reached the car park. "Try again. And I'm driving."

She snatched the keys out of his hand, ignoring his muttered. "_Bossy_."

"I just wanted you there, Bones. You make things interesting."

She nodded, considering this. "So, you playing with my phone's ring tone, poking me, making me look bad in front of your boss, and generally humiliating me, is interesting to you?"

He looked dismayed. "No, Bones, you're not _listening_-"

"-I would be if you'd taken me to an interrogation lecture."

He looked just about ready to cry. Or start acting on his alpha male tendencies. She wasn't sure which she'd prefer.

"Bones, just, truce, okay-"

Booth's phone starting ringing. He reached for it, automatically, then froze, staring at it.

It was playing "You Drive Me Crazy." Britney Spears. He'd mentioned how much he hated the song after Angela had won a karaoke competition singing it. So she'd programmed it into his phone, to go off whenever Cullen called him.

He recovered, and answered it, glaring at her.

"Hello? Yes, sir. I understand. We'll get right on that. Yes, sir. Essays. Yes."

He clicked off, and then proceeded to sit there glowering at her.

She didn't say anything.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, while she frantically tried to remember where the nearest hospitals were, so she'd have easy access when Booth caused her to have a nervous breakdown.

He finally emitted a menacing kind of growl. "Bones- you are _so_-"

"-Even." She contributed, before he could put in unnecessary words like _dead_, or not _driving my car for x amount of months_.

"We're even."

He gave her an amused glance before nodding.

"Since when did you become the practical joker, Bones? I mean, you freaked out over Cullen, y'know, forcefully ejecting us back there. What gives?"

"I became friends with the class clown." She shot back.

He made a disbelieving noise.  
She looked at him as she paused for a red light.

"What?"

"You'll never make class clown, Bones. You'll always be that girl at the back of the class. Quiet, but you know she sees everything. You know she's the most interesting one in the room."

He leaned back, and folded his hands behind his head, grinning at her.

"I always wanted to talk to her."

She smiled, struggling not to be pleased. He still got to her. After 18 months of working together, he knew exactly how to get to her.

But still, stands must be made. "Yeah, so you could copy her work."

He sat up, giving her his best charm smile.

"That reminds me. Bones-"

"-What, Booth?"

"If give you my pocket money will you write my essay for me?"

**Author's Note:** Will get more fluffy, I promise. Next chapter. Involves firelight and couches, I swear on Zack's new haircut. Thanks all readers and reviewers. The last reviews just made my day, and I've been drunk on Happy ever since. Yay!


	5. Make me better

DISCLAIMER: Flatmate better at stealth exercises, not so good at identifying Seeley BoothI_ know_. That's what _I_ said. So still don't own. Is safer in the hands of HH, anyway.

She was sick. She was really, really sick.

Her head was killing her, her muscles ached, she couldn't concentrate for more than five minutes without her eyes going crossed, and to top it all off, she was tormented by the thought that kept buzzing around in her head.

This was all her own fault.

She had brought it on herself, for agreeing to wash Booth's car.

He'd been going to wash it anyway, had been talking all week while she'd pretended to be interested about shining hub cabs and polishing mirrors, and something to do with buffing in the correct manner. She'd made agreeable noises and somehow, this had been taken as in indication she wanted to help.

And when she'd tried to back out of it, trying frantically to remember if it was Zack or Hodgins who would be the most likely to back up her story of work when Booth checked, he'd landed it on her.

She owed him.

Apparently, she'd been spending much time with Sully, and then, since Sully left, she'd been spending too much time on her own. How he'd suddenly become the judge of that he'd refused to explain.

Then, to add insult to injury, he said she'd been neglecting their partnership and therefore, she owed him a few hours of car scrubbing. How washing something Booth wouldn't even let her drive was supposed to improve their partnership, she wasn't sure. She'd thought that was what Gordon Gordon was for.

And the saddest thing was, she could still have gotten out of it. She could have insisted, claiming case notes, or housework, or a social occasion with Angela, and Booth would have given her one of his looks, but let it go.

But the crux of it was, she missed him. They hadn't been interacting all that much lately, what with her and Sully's…intermingling, and the fact they'd been a little antagonistic with each other after Sully left.

And he'd made her feel guilty, damn him. She'd seen the look in his eyes, braced for rejection. She'd seen it all too often lately, when she'd turned down offers of dinner after a case, or lunch during a slow day, to leave with Sully.

She was perplexed at the way he tugged at her heart. She didn't understand how, for two years now, he'd gotten hold of something inside of her that she'd never been able to get back. Something that, even now, she couldn't convince herself wasn't willingly given.

Hence, she'd gone to Booth's house on Saturday, and she'd washed his car.

Now it was Monday, and she felt like she'd been run over. Several times.

She groaned and rested her forehead on her arms, where she was sitting at her desk.

"Bones, you look like the walking dead." Booth spoke from her office doorway.

"The dead don't walk. And shut up, Booth."

"Touchy, too. You sick or something?"

She somehow found the strength to lift her head and glare at him.

"You know perfectly well I'm sick, Booth. You called me yesterday just to laugh at me."

"I did not."

"Yes, you did. And you called Cam this morning to warn her I might be irritable. She made the point of saying she wasn't afraid of me."

"Maybe she hasn't seen you really sick."

"I _am_ really sick."

"No, remember last year when you had the flu and you still tried to punch me out when I tried to make you go home?"

"That was an important case-"

"-And remember when you twisted your ankle in that ravine I told you not to go down and you told me I was just a Neanderthal with a flashy tie?"

"It was a ditch, Booth, and you _are_ a Neanderthal with a flashy tie."

But she looked him in the eyes when she said it, so he wouldn't think she meant it.

"You're just _mean_, Bones." He smirked at her, so she knew he wasn't insulted.

"I'm sick. And it's your fault."

"It is not-"

"-You're the one that decided it would be fun to drench me with soapy water."

He laughed. "It _was_ fun."

"Yeah. For you._ I_ ended up with the mother of all chills, _and_ your car has water streaks all over it because you decided it would be more fun to spray me with the hose instead of cleaning your car properly."

He smiled, reminiscently. "Well, if you didn't egg me on-"

"I was saying, Booth, stop. What part of that convinced you to keep doing it?"

He looked her straight in the eyes as he sauntered closer. "You were laughing."

She considered that.

He'd snuck up behind her while she was concentrating on the rub-on, rub-off technique he'd taught her, and dumped a bucket of wash water on her. While she stood there wondering whether he'd gone insane, and then finding herself with an intense desire to throttle him, he'd said something about rinsing, and had turned the hose on her.

Had she laughed? She'd been watching his eyes, as usual, for a clue as to what was going on. She'd read fun, and mischief, and teasing…when a spray of water had hit her in the face.

Her lips twitched.

"See, Bones, you had fun."

She refused to smile.

"I did not."

"Yes, you did."

He was trying his charm smile. The one she'd stopped resisting, of late, and as such her immunity to it was at an all time low.

"No, Booth." She was trying really hard, not to smile. But he was grinning at her, and he_ knew_, damn him, that she wasn't going to hold out for much longer.

"Especially when you were covered in soap suds. You had a little soap moustache right-"

He reached over and traced over her top lip.

"-Here."

She gave up, and broke into a laugh as he grinned at her, triumphant.

"Shut up, Booth."

"It was really cute."

"I looked like a drowned rat."

"I have a secret fondness for rats. Especially drowned ones." He smiled at her, and she felt her stomach flutter a little. As usual. She'd long given up trying to work out why she was continually moved by these odd statements of his.

It wasn't even a real compliment, but coming from Booth, somehow it sounded right. Just for her.

She felt her forehead and groaned. "That's it. I'm going home."

He stared at her.

"You decided this, all on your own."

"You don't always have to be the one to tell me to go home."

He kept staring at her. "Bones, I _am_ always the one to tell you to go home. Otherwise, you'd never leave."

She opened her mouth to correct the absurdity of this statement when he ran a gentle hand along her cheek.  
"Wha-what are you doing?"

He looked her in the eyes. "You're burning up, Bones."

She gulped. "I-am?"

"Yeah, you must have a fever. That coupled with the fact you are actually voluntarily willing to leave means I am taking you home."

"I am perfectly capa-"

"Bones. I am. Taking. You. Home."

She sighed, resigned. "You are such a Neanderthal."

He grinned at her. "Yeah, but I have a flashy tie. That puts me a step up above all the other Neanderthals, right?"

Well, she couldn't fault his logic, there.

They passed Hodgins and Angela on the way out.

"Bones is out for the day, guys. Don't call her."

Hodgins stared at them. "She's leaving? What did you do, drug her?"

Angela whacked him, and smiled at her.  
"Feel better, sweetie. Good call, FBI."

She opened her mouth to say she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions, but Booth hauled her along before she could say anything.  
"Let's not get into a three hour discussion on how and why you are perfectly capable of making your own decisions, and just actually leave, for once, okay?"

She shut her mouth. He really knew her too well.

"Now, try not to throw up in the car, Bones, I just had it expertly cleaned."

She punched him with the arm he wasn't dragging her along with.

"Shut up, Booth."

He sighed. "Remember the days when you used just tell me not to call you Bones? Without the hitting? Remember that?"

"Yes, but when I was just telling you off, I was building up unexorcised anger. Now I'm expressing my emotions in a healthy way."

He raised a brow at her, and she smirked at him.

"Glad to be of service, Bones."

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

"You can go now, Booth. I'm home." She pointed out.

"I know, but you look _really_ bad."

"Thank you." She said dryly.

"You're welcome." He replied absently, looking through her kitchen cupboards, and she rolled her eyes.

"Booth. What are you doing?"

"Making you chicken soup. What does it look like?"  
She wrinkled her nose. "What-_why _are you making me chicken soup?"

"It's the soup of sick people, Bones. _Everybody_ knows- well. Trust me on this."

She sighed. She really just wanted to sit down, but she felt like she had to watch him try to take care of her.

He turned.

"_Bones!_ What are you doing?! Sit down! Jeez, what is wrong with you? Sick people have to rest, okay? Commit to memory: I will not stand for hours on end when running a hundred and four degree temperature."

She bristled. "I know that."

"And yet, you're still standing up."  
He crossed to her, hauled her over to a kitchen chair, and dumped her in it.

She yanked her arm out of his grip, glaring at him. "I just didn't want to offend you. Now I'm finding I don't really mind if that situation occurs."

"You're not a guest in your own home, Bones."

She snarled at him, her head starting to pound again. "I_ know _that. I'm not an imbecile."

Pause. She closed her eyes, regretting the outburst. She felt a light touch on her arm, and met his gaze.

He was crouched in front of her, looking intently at her.

"You, uh, want me to go, Bones? I mean, I can come by later, check on you-"

"-No, Booth." She patted his arm gently, touched at the concern in his eyes.

"Stay. Make me chicken soup." She smiled at him, lifted a shoulder. "I'm sick. Chicken soup is the food of sick people."

He searched her eyes a moment longer, then stood up.

"That it is. Okay, Bones." He rubbed his hands together. "Where's your chicken?"

She frowned at him. "At the supermarket. With all the other chickens."

One supermarket trip, forty-five minutes, and three painkillers later, she was full of chicken soup, and feeling better.

They'd eaten in companionable silence. Or, mostly companionable, after she'd told Booth if he didn't stop fussing over her he'd end up wearing the soup as a tasteful addition to his tie.

Booth broke the silence as she finished eating. "So, are you going to throw anything at me if I tell you to lie down?"

She considered. "No. But I would like to know why you're being so nice to me. I've been sick before."

He nodded. "Yeah, but that was _before_."

She had a second to wonder at that cryptic comment before he waved his fork at her, continuing.

"I just feel a little guilty that I made you sick. So I'm making up for it. Let the catholic boy do his penance, huh?"

She frowned at him, and started to gather up the dishes.

"You didn't make me sick, Booth. I chose, of my own free will, to go and wash your car. It's not your fault."

He stood up, grabbing his plate off her as she tried to clear it.

"Yeah, but I chose, of my own free will, to throw freezing cold water on you. So it is my fault."

She shrugged. "I suspected there might be a water fight of some kind. It's you, Booth. You're a five-year old disguised as an FBI agent. Who am I to argue with personality traits such as yours?"

He grinned at her. "Thanks, Bones. That means a lot, coming from the girl who before this day has argued with, at last count, no less than twenty-six of my personality traits."

She raised her brows at him. "You're welcome."

They finished clearing the dishes in silence, Booth elbowing her out the way to stack the dishes in her dishwasher.

She broke it, this time. "So, are you going to go?"

"Are you going to go to bed?" He countered.

She shrugged. "I'm not sleepy."

"Then I'm not going."

"So, if I don't go to sleep, you won't go?" She teased.

He pointed a finger at her. "Bet you can't stay awake all night."

She lifted her chin. "Bet I can. And you can't bet, Booth, you're a degenerate gambler."

He glared at her. "Every time you bring this up, Bones."

She stared at him, all innocence. "What? It's the truth. Who am I to start you down the road to purgatory?"

"You don't even believe in hell, Bones."

She raised her brows. "But you do."

He sighed. "We can't keep having this same discussion, every time I try to make a bet with you."

She considered this. "We should do something else, then. Something that won't trigger your compulsive need to gamble."

"My compulsive- I'm not OCD, Bones."

She ignored this, and looked around the room, hoping for inspiration. Inspiration didn't come. Her apartment was not exactly a haven for stimulating activities.  
"What's that, Bones?"

Booth strode into her lounge, pointing. He grabbed a box off her bookshelf, and held it aloft triumphantly.

"Scrabble." She said, dubious.

"Yeah, Scrabble. I'm not tired, you're not tired. Let's make words out of letters for points. Loser has to stay up all night. "

"You hate Scrabble, Booth."

"Correction. I _did_ hate Scrabble, but I've been hanging out with this girl who doesn't believe in saying words that have only one or two syllables, so-"

She bristled. "I do not-"

"Hey, Bones, who said I was talking about you?"

She glared at him. "Oooh."

He laughed. "Okay. The girl is you. But don't get all gloating and egotistical. I might actually win this thing. Especially since you're sick- I'm in with a small shot at least, huh?"

"Yeah, especially if you use 'Neanderthal'. Or 'blandish'."

"Bones, I don't know what that means."

She smirked at him. "Oh. Really? That's too bad."

"You have a mean streak, you know. Anyone ever tell you that?"

She just laughed.

Three hours, and four games of Scrabble later, her head was pounding again, her entire body was aching, it was pouring rain outside, and worst of all, Booth was winning for the third time in a row.

"I still don't understand how 'wassup' is a word."

"You agreed to allow slang, Bones. It's not my fault your idea of slang is 'rockin'."

"That was the term when I was at school."

Booth snorted. "Yeah, primary school."

She stared at him. "Yes, that's right."

He just smirked at her. "Your turn."

She considered the board and the positions of the letters.

As she placed the letters Booth snorted again.

"You sound like a horse."

"It's just typical, Bones. Only you would think of to­­­­­ put 'ergo'. Come to think of it, I think you're the only one that actually uses 'ergo', anymore. It might not even count as a word."

"Do you want me to check the dictionary?" She held it up, challengingly.

"You're touchy when you're not winning."

"This is not a competition, Booth."

"You're right, it's a bet." He rubbed his hands together and smiled at her. "And I'm gonna win."

She tried not to smile at how happy he was to be beating her. She was having a good time.

Despite being thirty points behind.

She could be magnanimous …when she was winning.

Hell with it, she was going to make up those points. Feeling like her head was going to explode was no excuse.

"No, you're not."

"Why not? Because you're smarter than me?"

"No. Because I have a 'q'. _Ergo,_ it's worth a lot of points."

He smirked at her. "You just had to prove you could use it in a sentence, didn't you?"

She just stared at him, and he shrugged.

"Well, I have an extensive knowledge of slang. _Ergo_, I'm winning."

"That's not going to help you in the long run, Booth."

"It is when my playing partner is not even sure 'wassup' is a slang word."

"I knew it was!"

He just looked at her.

"Well, I at least knew it was within the realm of possibility." She amended.

He ignored this. "My turn!"

He moved his letters into position.

"Epistle."

"Okay. That's a word."

"I know it's a _word_, Bones, that's why I chose it."

She just flapped a hand and placed her letters, knowing he was glaring at her. If he was angry, maybe he wouldn't concentrate as well, and she might actually win.

She could admit it. She had made a severe error in judgement in allowing him to goad her into approving slang words.

"Sloth. Nice, Bones. But that's not going to make me mad. Had it been greed, well. Greed makes me mad. Maybe next time, huh?"

She wrinkled her nose, but ignored him. He knew what she was trying to do. Damn him.

She read the word he placed next.

"Pride. As in, 'comes before a'. Huh, Bones? Get it?"

"Shut up, Booth." She slammed her letters down.

She was going to lose the one game she was actually good at. And she was sick. And her back was aching.

"Piquant. That one of those fruity French words, Bones?"

She grinned.

"What?"

"Funny you should say that, Booth, considering that particular word reminds me of you. Your move."

He glared at her, and made…'mouse'.

"A little word, Booth."

"I _know_ that, Bones."

"No, Booth, you don't understand-I was making a joke. You know, mice are little?"

He scratched his chin, and raised a brow at her. "Oh. Really? That was a joke?"

She glared at him, until she saw him trying to hide a grin.

"You know, you are actually getting better at the jokes, Bones. Your move, huh?"

"You don't have to sound so surprised. I hang out with The Jester all day; I was bound to pick something up." She grumbled, studying the board.

"The Jester?"

"You know, that guy from The Batman? The one that looks like that clown you shot?"

He ignored the jibe. "You mean The Joker, Bones, and it's just Batman. Like Cher."

"Who's Cher?"

He just stared at her. "Never mind, Bones. Move."

"Stop being so pushy, Booth. You're already winning."  
"Yeah, but you have something up your sleeve. You have that really annoying, self-satisfied look on your face." 

She looked up, hoping said really annoying self-satisfied look was, indeed, on her face.

"Okay."

She moved her letters, arranging them around 'card.'

"Pericardium." She looked at him expectantly. "This also reminded me of you."

He just looked confused.

Then smiled at her, ruefully. "Complete the sentence. I don't know-"

"-What that means." She chorused, nodding. It was a private joke now. She'd said it so many times in the two years they'd been partners it had become part of their _shtick_, as Booth so eloquently put it.

"At least it's _you_, for once. The pericardium is a fluid-filled sac that surrounds the heart."

He looked a little unsure. "Uh-Bones-"

"Its main purpose is to support and protect the heart. You do the same thing, metaphorically speaking, for me. And, you know, others you care about." She sneaked a glance at him as she pretended to study the board.

He looked pleased. That was good. "I like playing Scrabble with you, Bones."

It was her turn to snort. "Yeah, because you're winning."

He shrugged. "No. I like playing Scrabble with _you_, Bones."

She got the distinction and smiled, her heart beating a little faster.

"Thanks, Booth."

She was glad he was here. She had never really been coddled before, when she wasn't feeling well. She'd never admitted to anyone, least of all herself, it would be nice, on occasion to have someone there.

And Booth was being really…nice.

"But, all good things must come to an end…and beating my opponent by not ten, not twenty, but thirty points, I win! Ha, Bones, want me to load you up on the coffee?"

Correction. He was nice, when he wasn't being a jackass.

"I would have won if I'd been able to concentrate."

"Bones, you're a very attractive person yourself, but it didn't stop me from kicking your ass."

"What?"

He just raised his brows at her, waiting got her to get it.

"Oh. Booth, I was talking about my headache. But that shirt does look good on you. You should wear it more often."

There. Let it never be said Temperance Brennan didn't return a compliment.

He smiled at her. The one he reserved for when he was thinking of her somewhat outside the friend/colleague dynamic.

She knew he looked at her as slightly…more, sometimes. She did it, too. She figured it was normal behaviour, them working so closely together. It was natural to think of continuing that closeness into a sexual relationship. It didn't mean they were going to do anything about it. It didn't mean he wanted her, or she wanted him.

It was just hard to remember that line of defence when he smiled at her like that, and everything became so…slow.

"Thanks, Bones. But you are getting sleepy, so in honour of you being sick I'll waive the bet until you're better."

"I'm so grateful."  
"Well, you know. Anything for a friend."

"A friend. Right." She agreed.

"Uh. Well. I should go." He pointed a finger at her. "Go to bed."

She rolled her eyes. "I am a grown woman, Booth-"

"-Bones." He laid a gentle hand over her mouth, and she stilled, staring at him.

"Just go to bed." He took his hand away, hesitated, then stepped forward to place a kiss on her cheek.

Her skin prickling where his stubble had lightly scraped, she laid a hand on his arm to stop him as he made for the door.

"What was that for?"

He shrugged, but there was nothing vague in the look he turned on her. "I just…felt the need."

"Oh." Still processing this, she slid her hand down his arm, brought his hand up to her mouth, and pressed a light kiss to his palm, folding his fingers over it.

She met his gaze

He was staring at her, and she could guess at his thoughts all too well.

She released his hand and stepped back. She didn't want to do this when she was sick.

She wasn't sure if she wanted this, period. Wasn't sure if _he _wanted this.

But if it happened, she was going to do it with a clear head, not when she felt so ill.

She was going to do it when she knew who she was and what she wanted.

"What was that for, Bones?"

She smiled, lifted a shoulder. "I just felt the need. Thank you for taking care of me, Booth."

He quirked his mouth, and dipped his head a little, acknowledging she wasn't just talking about tonight.

"Anything for a friend." He repeated.

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, winked at her jauntily, and was gone.

She watched him head down the hall, thinking about what she'd seen in his smile.

They had time. After all, infinity went both ways.

**Author's note:** Yeah. I know I promised firelight and couches, on _Zack's hair_ and _everything_, but will be in the very next chapter.

I wrote more than I originally anticipated, A, and two, I wanted to get it right and it wasn't fitting in this one, although I tried for ages. So, many apologies for misleading you and I'll update hopefully this weekend with actual couches, but maybe not actual fire, because, y'know, don't have insurance.

Thanks eighty nine thousand, six hundred, and twenty four to all readers and reviewers.


	6. Connections

DISCLAIMER: I don't own it, but have just enough money to buy the little skull on Brennan's keys. Or one of Booth's ties.

On second thought, _nobody_ has enough money to buy one of Booth's ties. They probably allocate forty percent of the budget to buying Booth's ties. But, hey, the ties, the belts, the socks…they work.

Bringing the tangent back around…now.

She sat curled on her couch, reading.

Oblivious to the beat of the rain on the glass, the crackle of the fire in the grate, lost in the words she was reading, aware only that she was safe, and warm.

Secure in the knowledge that life was not going to be handing her anything beyond a glass of wine and a good night's sleep, tonight.

_Bang. Bangbangbangbangbangbangbang._

"Bones! Open the hell up! Now!"

Obviously, life had not checked with Booth regarding his plans for her.

She sighed, put down her book, and inched closer to the door, knowing what this was about.

"Bones! I know you're in there! I don't care if you're in the middle of Einstein's theories or whatever, you open this door!"

She glanced over at the cover of her book. Sir Isaac Newton. Ha. He wasn't _always_ right.

The banging continued.

"Bones, so help me I will break down this door!"  
She sighed again. He would. And really, she was only delaying the inevitable. If she avoided him tonight, he'd only hunt her down tomorrow.

She opened the door, and Booth stood there, glaring at her.

He was breathing like he'd just run a marathon, his fists were clenched, and his jaw was set in that way that generally meant a lot of trouble for her.

All the signs were there that she needed to be packing a bag for Mexico right about now.

So why wasn't she running?

It was his eyes, she realised. When he was truly angry he went cold, looked through people. Turned off all his emotions, much the same as she did when she had a particularly difficult case.

Right now, though he was glaring, the anger she saw in them was hot.

Booth in a bona fide temper tantrum. That, she could deal with. Mostly because she knew she was safe with him. She trusted absolutely that the man in front of her would never use violence with her.

And, also she had a very good suspicion as to why he was angry.

"Booth. I know you're mad-"

"-Bones. Did you, or did you not, intentionally run over one of my agents with my car."

"It was only his foot, Booth."

"It was my car, Bones!"

She huffed, eyeing him.

"Well, are you going to come in and we can discuss this like two rational adults? Or are you going to sit out here and sulk all night?"

That had him stalking inside. She backed away as he entered and stood with his back to the closed door.

She wondered at the wisdom of shutting herself in with no means of escape. Oh, well. She could always karate chop him. But she'd feel really bad about doing it.

"There's nothing to discuss, Bones. You purposely ran over an FBI agent. How is that rational?"

"It was a means to an end." Plus, she was pissed off. It had helped to alleviate the anger.

Booth groaned, and looked heavenward. "I'm so going to be suspended. Again. I mean, a guy can come back from that once, maybe. But twice?"

She snapped to attention. "What? Why are you going to be suspended? I'm the one that ran him over. And he deserved it!"

"Bones, did you hear those times I said you used _my car_ to perform that activity?"

Oh, no. This was all her fault.

She'd borrowed Booth's car , hers having been making odd noises lately, to go check out some peripheral scenery at the site of the murder they were currently investigating, only to find herself denied entrance because she wasn't with Booth.

And she'd got The Sneer.

It was a name Angela had afforded the look often given to squints of any status.

Most of the time she was afforded a little respect, because she was with Booth.

The other times, she and her team had to deal with cops who thought her methods were too slow, too steeped in the silence of the lab and the clinical approach she took.

She was respected because she got results, but the men and women who worked on instinct, and emotion, and human nature weren't always comfortable with how she got them.

Hence, that agent today, he'd looked her up and down, given her The Sneer, and informed her she'd have to wait for Booth, because only he had the _proper_ jurisdiction.

So, in order to get to the scene, she just accelerated.

Over one of Booth's highly paid, professional goons. And she'd enjoyed it. Immensely.

"But it was just his_ foot_. I didn't even break any bones! I asked, after I took my photos. I'm not completely insensitive."

He raised a brow.

"You asked?"

"Yeah. Well, he was kind of rolling on the ground, and producing these groaning sounds, but I knew by the way he was holding his foot nothing was broken."

So she'd left. But then she'd considered her actions, deduced that Booth wouldn't have the best reaction to the news that she'd run over someone on his team simply because she was pissed off.

So she'd dropped the photos off at the lab to Zack, dropping Booth's keys back on her desk where he'd left them while conferencing with Angela, then had snuck, bent almost double, past Angela's office, hoping neither Booth nor Angela happened to glance up.

Then she'd calmly driven her coughing, clanking car very slowly home, hoping she wouldn't glance in the rear view mirror to see Booth roaring up behind her, in what would prove to be the slowest car chase in human history.

She would continue the case via satellite, until tomorrow, until Booth had the chance to blow off steam, when he heard about the incident.

Good plan, but bad execution, considering the steam he was blowing was currently directed at her.

"Bones. Why? There had to be a reason. There is a reason, right? Like, a, I don't know. Science experiment?"

"I don't generally experiment on living people, Booth."

He spoke through gritted teeth, pacing closer. She backed up a little more.

He just took a step forward. One step. She silently cursed him and his freakishly tall legs.

"Then. Why?"

She shrugged. "He was a jerk. He made me feel like nothing, and I just…I'm not nothing, Booth."

"I know you're not." He was looking at her now, all traces of anger gone. He was watching, giving her that look she knew meant he was figuring her out.

"Just because I'm on your team doesn't mean I get to be treated like I'm invisible. I'm not invisible. I'm right here."

"I know you are, Bones. I know."

And it was that acceptance, that total belief in who she was that she saw in his eyes, that made her shrug, and try a half smile.

"So. I'll apologise officially. I'll say I had a seizure."

"A seizure?"

"Yeah," She said absently, thinking. "A reaction to peanuts or something."

"Peanuts?"

"Yeah. But it has to be convincing. Maybe if I actually consume a peanut, whilst apologising-"

"-Bones. Just stop, stop for a second, okay?"

She stopped obediently, looking at him.

He stepped closer, and cupped the side of her face. She didn't flinch, just leaned into the touch slightly. He'd been doing things like this for a while now, touching her, making sure she knew through physical contact that he was with her, all the way.

Lately though, her pulse had started spiking when he did it, and sometimes his eyes would darken in response to something he saw in her eyes, something he read in her voice, and she'd be held, breathless, on the edge of…something. Something that was waiting patiently for her to take, if only she'd reach out and grasp it.

But then one or both of them would take the step back, content, for now, so long as they were together.

Lately, she'd found herself wondering, at odd times, what it would be like to see him cook, in her kitchen. What it would be like to see him shrug out of his shirt at the end of the day. What it would be like to trace a path down the length of his spine as he lay beside her.

She wasn't sure she was ready to find out, but she'd accepted that, the way she felt, the way he seemed to feel, it was a question, only, of time.

"Bones, it's okay. Cullen wrote it off as faulty mechanics. I told him you hadn't fixed your car for a while, and as such could not remember how to properly operate a functioning vehicle."

She stared at him, horrified. "But now he'll think I'm stupid, Booth."

"As opposed to gripped by manic and scary rage?"

She grimaced. "Good point."

"Remind me to check your car tomorrow, Bones." Brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear, he stepped back and wandered into her lounge, taking in the blanket, the wine, her book.

She followed him, going over their conversation.

"Booth? If you already talked to Cullen, why did you say you'd be suspended?"

He glanced at her, then picked up her book. "Sir Isaac Newton, huh? Close, but no cigar."

She glared at him, and he sighed, putting the book down.

"You lied to me to get me to talk, Booth. You told me that something really bad would happen to you so I would tell you what happened. You manipulated me."

"I got you to talk, didn't I?"

He did have a point. "Yeah. It's just, you don't usually manipulate me, anymore."

"Who are you kidding, Bones? I told you just last week if you didn't take your car in to be fixed it would blow up. That was a lie. I mean, it'll probably just fall to bits."

She glared at him. "You don't manipulate me about on the important things, Booth. And I knew it was a lie." Although she'd been apprehensive about getting in her car ever since, and had cursed Booth every single time the damn thing had made a particularly disquieting noise.

"Well, put yourself in my shoes, Bones. I find out my partner steals my car, runs over some poor bastard's foot, flees the scene-"

She bristled. "I did not_ flee_-"

"-Then traipses back to her work, returns the stolen vehicle, and was last seen running out of the building like the hounds of hell were after her. _Then_ she communicates via satellite with every single member of her team bar her partner. Oh. And does not answer her pager, or her cell phone. Did I leave anything out?"

She squirmed. "I know you where worried-"

"-Worried. Is that what they're calling it these days?"  
"I know you were _extremely_ worried. I'm sorry, Booth, okay? I just didn't want to face you, and have you yell at me, as well as have to apologise to that…man. I would have done it tomorrow. Just…not today."

He looked at her frowning. "I wouldn't have yelled, Bones."

She raised a brow, and he held up a hand.

"I wouldn't have yelled _a lot_, Bones. And I'm on your side, for the record. That little bastard is a pompous, arrogant jerk who, at this particular moment in time, is wishing he'd never been born."

She stared at him, eyes wide.

"Booth. Did you beat him up?"

"No. I just demoted him to a desk job for failing to contain an intruder on a crime scene. Then I told him if he ever spoke to you again, I'd actually break his foot. And every other bone in his body."  
She grinned. "My hero."

He shrugged. "Nobody messes with my Bones."

She felt her stomach tighten at the statement, then relaxed a moment later as he grinned at her.

"Except you." She teased.

He reached out, and yanked her over to sit on the couch with him.

He pulled her hair, lightly.

"Except me."

They sat in silence for a minute, and she shifted slightly, so she was leaning a little against him. Enjoying his warmth and the way his hand lightly stroked her shoulder.

Enjoying the sound of the rain, the fire in the grate, and the comfortable silence.

She'd felt like this when she was reading, earlier. Safe, and secure. Home. She'd never considered home to be a person, before, and found the idea intriguing, and a little scary.

She broke the silence, tapping his thigh to get his attention.

"So really, this was an excuse to come and annoy me. Right? I mean, all this could have waited."

"Well, I did want to see you. I figure my day is not complete until you've yelled at me for something. But I am sorry I interrupted you and Sir Isaac, here."

Oh. That was nice. She was pretty sure.

"That's okay, Booth. Sir Isaac can wait until I'm through with you."

He grinned at her, and tapped her shoulder.

"I'm flattered. And the word is not annoy, Bones. Dialogue. I came to dialogue with you."

"Dialogue. Is that what they're calling it these days?"

She was flirting with him. Or, she was trying too. One glass of wine was sure working wonders, tonight.

He laughed, and put his hand over the one she rested on his leg.

"As I recall, Bones, you had a few very interesting phrases for what they're calling it these days that time Zack and Hodgins spiked your drink."

She groaned, remembering.

Or remembering the blurred fragments of regrettable actions that had come to her the morning after.

"Oh, yeah."

Booth sighed reminiscently. "Your wrath was terrifying to behold. Hodgins spent most of his time that week under the desk in Angela's office, and Zack was too terrified to show up for three days. I felt so guilty."

She grinned too, then frowned at him. "But that wasn't your fault."

He stroked the back of her hand lightly, then tried a charm smile on her.

She frowned harder, trying to ignore the feathery sensations of pleasure creeping along her forearm.

Why was he doing that? He only used that particular charm smile when he was trying to get…out of…trouble. It clicked.

"You had something to do with getting me drunk."

"I kind of bet Hodgins and Zack that they couldn't."

She stared at him, dumbfounded. She knew she should be yelling, but all she could think was-

"_Why_?"

He shifted, uncomfortable. She shifted around until she was facing him.

"Uh, well…"

"Booth. You and Hodgins and Zack made me stand on a bar and sing karaoke, among other things."

"Yup." He agreed.

"It wasn't a bar that was designated for karaoke."

"Yup."

Since he didn't seem inclined to volunteer anything else, she made her voice plaintive.

"Booth? I'm feeling really bad, all of a sudden. I've had a really rough day, what with running over people and all, and I really feel like going to bed."

She gave him a sorrowful stare.

"But I don't think I could sleep until you tell me what on earth possessed you take it upon yourself to up my blood alcohol levels."

She tried to conjure up tears, for emphasis.

He just stared at her. "Cheap shot, Bones."

"I learn from the best."

He sighed. "Well, it was just after your Dad left, with Russ, remember? You were kind of internalising everything, and I figured, get her to loosen up, to laugh, dance a little, you know?"

She knew. She remembered having fun for the first time in weeks. She remembered glimpses of Booth's face throughout the evening, laughing at her. No. Laughing with her.

"You could have done that without inebriating me. It would have taken considerably less effort."

He looked stunned for a minute, then grinned. "Well, I try, Bones. But it wouldn't have been as funny."

"Yes, it would have." She shrugged, rueful. "I can't dance, drunk or sober, so…"

He laughed, and pointed a finger at her. "Now you're fishing for compliments. You can bust a move or two out on the dance floor. You forget, I've had the honour on a couple occasions."

She felt her face heat up at the way he was grinning at her, and figured she'd better change the subject.  
"I must say I'm very surprised at you. I count on you, Booth, to be my guide through social interaction. And then you go and get me, you know, liquored up."

She tapped a finger into his chest, keeping her eyes on her finger. He was way too good at reading her eyes.

"I mean, I trust you, as my partner, as my friend, to show me where the line is. And you blatantly ignored that sacred code."

She snuck a glance it him from under her lashes. He looked abashed, now. It was an unusual look for him, she mused, but still attractive, in its own way.

"What am I supposed to think, Booth? You disregard my feelings, my alcoholic preferences, all thought for my well being and happiness, for what? Two hours of happy Bones, dancing on tables?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.  
She hid a smile, trying not to dwell too much on how the firelight played very well off the planes of his face.

Let him stew. She was entitled to a little revenge.

"I…Jeez, Bones. I never would have…I mean…wait. Are you _crying_?"

Her shoulders were shaking with silent laughter now, and she felt him grab her shoulder with one hand, and lifted her chin with the other.  
"Bones, look, I'm really sorry, okay…" He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're laughing. Why are you laughing?"

She tried a couple of times to answer him, then gave up, howling.

He just sat there looking at her like she'd gone insane, which just made her laugh harder.

Finally, leaning weakly against the back of the couch, she pointed a finger at him.

"I can't believe you fell for that! Even I wouldn't have fallen for that, and according to some I have no intuition. Whatsoever."

He looked at her with dawning comprehension. Then smiled at her. His dangerous, boy are _you_ in trouble smile.

Uh, oh.

"Bones, you are _so_ dead."

She froze. "No, Booth."

He scooted closer. "Just how ticklish are you, Bones?"

Oh, crap. "No, Booth."

"Yes, Bones."

But he didn't tickle her. He just reached forward, grasped her hips, and yanked her into him, into a loose hug.

His hands smoothed up her spine, and she half-closed her eyes at the sensation, almost forgetting to be worried about what the hell had gotten into Booth.

He played with the ends of her hair, and she tentatively slid her hands up his chest, drawing back a little to meet his intent stare.

She knew who she was, when she looked at him. She knew who she wanted to be, and she knew exactly what she wanted, without reservations.

This connection between them was something she couldn't comprehend and knew to the very marrow of her bones, between one moment and the next.

If this was going to happen, at the very least she'd discern what it felt like, to have that connection deepen until they both burned.

At least she'd know, after two years.

She'd finally know.

He made a slight sound, tracing his hands around to her shoulders.

"Show me where the line is, Booth." She breathed, lifting her chin. All she could think about was how good his hands on her felt. How right.  
But, for some reason, he was easing away.  
"Yeah. Right. The line." He stood up, and walked over to stand staring into the fire.

Perplexed, her heart rate still up, and her body still tingling where his hands had been, she followed him.

"Booth? Is something wrong?"

She'd done something wrong. He'd read something wrong, in her. She wanted this. He couldn't think she didn't want this.

Maybe _he_ didn't want this.

The thought rocked her, and she wrapped her arms around her waist to steady herself.

He saw the movement, and grimaced.

"I don't want to hurt you, Bones. I don't want to be that guy."

"What?" She frowned at him. "How will you hurt me?"

"I just…We fit, you and me. Like this. We fit. And I don't want to do anything that'll unstick the glue. You know?"

She considered. Nodded. "Fitting and glue. Got it."

He looked relieved.

Then she shook her head.

"But no. I have no idea why you're talking about that in relation to us."

He looked exasperated.

"Bones-"

"-I mean, surely a connection such as ours, with careful work and preservation, can be maintained indefinitely. Why do you think we're going to fall apart? Do you think I'm so bad at relationships, that everyone just leaves me, eventually?"

She gestured at nothing, upset. Afraid that's what he thought. Afraid that was how he saw her, as damaged. Irreparable.

"No, Bones, that is not what I think, okay? I don't think that. I just don't what to screw up what we have, already. I've screwed up with other girls…other women, and that's okay, I dealt, and moved on. But I couldn't live with myself if I failed with you, Bones. If I couldn't make it work."

She shook her head, trying to work it out. Wishing she could see inside his head, just for an instant, so she could say the right thing to him, solve the puzzle. Heal the wound.

"Why do you think you'll be the one to fail here, Booth? You are the most honourable man I know. I'm the one with all the issues. I'm the one that doesn't have any functioning associations with men, apart from Zack and Hodgins."

He looked pained. "Not with me, Bones?"

She wrinkled her nose, thoughtful. "I don't have an _association_ with you, Booth. We have a complex, highly personal relationship." She gave a slight shrug.

"You're the only one I can be wholly myself with. You're the only one who seems to truly know who I am. So I don't know why you think we're so likely to fail if we start something, here."

She met his gaze. "Trust me to take care of you, Booth. Trust me not to let you fall."

He smiled, slightly, looking more at ease, and she smirked in response.

"I already tell you when you're screwing up, Booth. I'm not going to stop just because you can make my pulse rate go up. I'm still me. Just me, with you."

"Huh. Really."

He was still smiling a little, and the desperate, harsh look in his eyes had changed, become warm, and…a little dangerous.

She lifted her chin, her standard response when challenged.

"Yeah, I-"

He didn't give her a chance to finish. He stepped across the space between them, and crushed his mouth onto hers.

His hands slid down her sides, and as she lost herself in the sensations of his mouth on hers, began to make slow circles on her lower back.

She made an incoherent sound and pressed closer, her arms winding around his neck to pull him more firmly to her.

He sunk his teeth lightly into her bottom lip, then stroked her tongue with his, the feel of him, the taste of him conspiring to send her into chaos. And she was eager, desperate, even to yield to that confusion of thoughts, that surrender of reason.

Wanting only to be part of him, and therefore, somehow, whole.

She made a helpless sound of protest as he drew back, slightly, to look at her, his hand sliding up her spine in reassurance.

"I only ever want to be who you see, Bones. I want to always be the man that I am when I'm with you."

She took a breath, processing this, loving the rightness of this, the wholeness she felt as he held her.

She kissed him lightly, then leaned forward to breathe into his ear, delighting in the fact that his hands clenched on her spine.

"Just be Booth. Be my partner. That's all."

He cocked his head, smirking at her, pretending to think about it.

She watched him, loving the way his eyes darkened as his gaze drifted across her face to her lips.

He raised his eyebrows, and gave a slight shrug

"If you're sure."

She was serious, giving him her answer as she leaned forward to pull him into an embrace.

"Yes. I'm sure."

He held her, the glow from fire flickering over them, and she closed her eyes, resting her head on his chest, listening to the beat of the rain on the windows.

And time was still, there in the room.

"Hey, Bones?"

"Mmm?" She murmured, entranced by the sound of his heartbeat below her ear.

"I think you might need to kiss me again. I'm suddenly terrified I just imagined this."

She lifted her head, feeling her stomach tighten as she looked into those eyes, so familiar and yet so full of subtle nuances she thought it would take her beyond forever to learn them all by heart.

"So, you want proof."

His thumb came up to trace her lower lip, and suddenly all she could focus on was his mouth, and the memory of how it felt on hers.

"Proof would be nice."

She pretended to consider, as another kind of heat, both softer and fiercer than the fire, burned through her.

She nodded. "I can give you that."

**Author's note**: Holy cow. Too much typing. Hope you like. Think maybe am going to try to do an est. relationship one next. Not my shtick, but one can learn, right? Thanks heaps all readers and reviewers- I'm loving the comments- I so appreciate that you take the time to do so!

Have a great week!


	7. There's a 1st time for everything

DISCLAIMER: Notice the common denominator in all my fics. Something to do with…failing miserably…to own Bones. Oh, well.

**Author's note**: Oh em gee, I'm heading into Est. Relationship Land. Not really comfortable here, so this is The Very Last Chapter. Hope you like, and try not to cringe. Also, dishevelry. Not a word, apparently. But I like it heaps.

Temperance Brennan strode down the corridor of the FBI Building.

She had a purpose, and nothing was going to stop her.

She was going to fulfil that calling, that _need _inside of her, to the upmost of her ability.

Temperance Brennan was making her very first booty call.

And trying very hard not to think about it in quite that way.

She could give into her body's biological urges. She could admit that sometimes, she could allow herself to be ruled by the heart, and not the head.

Plus, really, this was all Booth's fault.

This morning she'd been talking to him on her office phone, discussing some case notes that were late making it onto Cullen's desk, and she'd suddenly, through no fault of her own, been distracted by his voice.

She'd never really taken in the fact that it was so deep, and smooth, before. She'd sat there, not comprehending the words Booth was saying but making agreeable noises anyway, when he'd suddenly stopped, and accused her of being preoccupied by something else.

She had simply agreed, not really surprised he'd noticed.

He seemed to have…radar, where she was concerned. He picked up the fluctuations in her mood, and had even guessed with remarkable accuracy what she was thinking on numerous occasions.

Even through phone lines, emails and when she wasn't actually speaking.

But then again, she reasoned, she could read him pretty well, herself.

Especially lately. Since they'd decided to try a relationship, it was becoming an addiction for her- given the fact she now had extra access to him, to try to understand more fully what made him tick.

So far, she'd concluded the sight of her in just about any article of clothing she owned turned him on, the fact she started her day at five-thirty a.m. was an issue best resolved by morning sex, and, if he kept walking around her apartment with his shirt half-undone she'd have to impose a time-frame in which such dishevelry could occur, if only for her own sanity's sake.

She figured she was doing pretty well, considering the way she had to constantly school her mind to keep to the topic at hand when she was with him, and when the topic at hand was sex, well, her mind simply didn't figure into that scenario.

And she kept getting the words he whispered to her in her bed, in the dark, stuck in her head, too. She couldn't seem to drown them out, any more than she could forget the timbre of his voice when he'd said them or the way he'd looked at her, so intense she almost had the thought to run, get out now. _Don't succumb to this_.

The only reason she going to see him now was because his words, his touch, were on constant replay in her brain. And the fact that she wouldn't, _couldn't_ run from Booth. He was her anchor, her sanctuary, her home. He was just…Booth.

She came to stand in his office doorway, leaning against the door in what she hoped was a seductive manner.

She cleared her throat, a little nervously, and Booth looked up from his paperwork.

"Hey. Whatcha doin' here, Bones?"

She moved into the room, and closed the door behind her, staring at him.

Then she balked.

This was Booth. This was her friend. Yes, he tended made her pulse do odd things on a regular basis and somehow managed to make her forget her own name when his mouth was on hers.

But he was hers. She was his. He _knew_ her, and that made it all the more difficult to face him and admit that all she'd been able to think about today was the way she felt, the way _he_ felt under her hands, when he was kissing her.

"I just wanted to check in, you know. See how you were doing." She hedged.

Damned if she was going to tell him the actual reason. She'd spend the next week gritting her teeth and trying not to hit him when he brought it up. Over, and over. And over.

Until she did actually hit him, or he did something she'd constantly rub in his face for a few days. Whichever came first.

"Check in."

He gave her a slow going over, which served only to make her breathing hitch and have her glaring at him simultaneously.

"I can check in with you if I want."

Maybe that was too defiant. He was good with defiance. And anger. Also, sorrow, come to think of it. Damn the man, he was good with emotions and her, period.

"Sure you can, Bones. But, isn't the phone a little easier?"

He was still watching her. Waiting to see if she'd crack.

Well, he had another think coming, there.

Just because she'd been unable to concentrate at work, and had driven to the FBI building for no rational reason at all, just that she'd wanted, no, _needed_ to see him, didn't mean she was going to actually _tell_ him this.

Temperance Brennan was nobody's fool.

She lifted her chin. "My cell phone's broken."

In response, he slid his chair back.

Walked, no, _stalked_ slowly towards her, the feral walk of large felines on the prowl, which did nothing for her breathing.

She backed towards the door, forgetting she'd closed it with the intention of jumping him as soon as they were done with preliminary pleasantries.

She hit the door, and he came to stand in front of her.

He was tall. She knew this. She'd known this for quite some time, now. Why was she suddenly so aware of it?

"Bones?"

"Booth?" Her voice came out huskier than usual. She tried to clear her throat quietly, noted Boot's amused stare, and glared at him, instead.

He slid his hands along her waist, under her unbuttoned jacket, and she met his gaze, her lips slightly parted, instantly forgetting to be annoyed.

She stared at him, fascinated, as the colour of his eyes seemed to darken.  
His hands slid slowly up her sides, traced lightly along the side of her breasts, and then ran up to her shoulders.

She held her breath as he slipped off her jacket, gave her that heart-stopping, wicked grin, and…backed away, digging in her jacket pocket.

She just watched, trying re-start her brain. What was he…oh. Damn.

He pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, and punched a few buttons.

Seconds later, his office phone began to ring.

He raised his brows at her, flipping the phone shut, tossing it to her.

"Your cell's broken, huh?"

She sighed. Round one to Booth.

"It must have gotten fixed…somehow."

He just looked at her sorrowfully.

"It must have gotten fixed, somehow? Jeez, Bones, that was probably the worst explanation of anything, ever."

She glared at him. "Well, I would have come up with a better one if you hadn't addled my brain."

"Addled, Bones?" He sounded casual, but he was doing that ridiculous _I'm the man_ grin at her, which made her want both to laugh, and kill him. Simultaneously.

She didn't reply. No way was she going to give him the satisfaction.

He sighed, and looked at her, keenly.

"We are meant to be professional, here, Bones. We talked about this. We still have a job to do."

"I know we do, Booth."

She felt bad, now.

What right did she have coming here for what Angela referred to as a _booty call_, when there were people out there that needed the help that she could give, that Booth could give? When there were victims, and families of victims, waiting for her to give a name and a cause of death?

She looked at him, chastened. "I'm sorry, Booth. I did come here just to see you. I was just…thinking about things, and then I couldn't_ stop_ thinking about them, and before I knew it, I was here."

He looked at her, and smiled, graciously choosing not to chasten her.

"Sometimes the heart overrules the head, Bones. You know that. It's an inevitable fact of life."

She nodded, feeling a little better.

"It is. But it can be prevented. This won't happen again, Booth. I promise."

He looked a little concerned.

"Well, maybe it can happen again. I mean, given the fact all I've been able to think about today is kissing you, it's probably a good thing you got to me first."

Then he grinned at her, trying the charm smile.

She stared at him. "You rat bastard!"

He sighed. "Ah, the years may pass, but the sentiment remains the same."

"You've been just as distracted as I have!"

He shrugged. "Well, I'm a hot-blooded American male who happens to be seeing this girl who makes my heart stop every time she looks at me. What's your excuse?"

"If I made your heart stop every time I looked at you you'd be dead, Booth."

He glared at her. "Well, I figure you're going to be the death of me sooner or later, why not express that in a figure of speech?"

"Hey, you're the one that insists on driving up on two wheels half the time. How do you know _you're _not going to kill _me_?"

He threw up his hands.

"I don't know, Bones. Why do you think I'm going to kill you with the car and not strangle you with my bare hands?"

They glared at each other, then he shook his head and stepped back a little, and she broke into a rueful half-laugh.

"I think we're going to kill each other. That or drive each other insane."

"I'll take insane for two hundred."

She looked at him.

"Me, too."

His gaze drifted to her mouth, and her heat beat sped up a little more.

So, did you hear the part about me saying all I can think about is kissing you?"

She stared at him. "Yeah, but now I've seen you, I feel like I can wait until tonight. What about you?"

He stared back at her, trying not to look surprised.

"Really?"

No. She wanted to rip open his shirt with her teeth. Wanted to nip that spot on his collarbone that had made him groan the last time she'd done it.

But she wasn't going to let him get away with making her feel guilty for wanting him. She was going to wait until tonight if it killed her. She grabbed her jacket out of his hands before he had a chance to try anything.

"Yeah. I'll see you tonight Booth. Have fun being _professional_, and all."

He nodded, getting it.

"I will. And Bones? Next time I'll try taking the booty call first, and being a smartass later."

She smirked at him over her shoulder as she left.

"You're learning, Booth."

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

That evening saw her lounging on her couch, just relaxing. Well, not completely. She was still finishing up some case notes.

Booth hadn't gotten to her _that_ badly.

Although her new television was on. And she kept thinking that highly improbable _House _show Booth liked was on soon. And that the patient advertised last week had looked fairly interesting. As well as quite humorous.

Damn it. He really_ had_ gotten to her that badly.

Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up, smirking at the caller ID.

Booth.

_Get naked. Now_. She guessed.

Or, _Bones, can you pick up my dry cleaning?_

Maybe not.

The last time he'd suggested it she'd replied she'd have to weigh her natural inculcation against doing menial tasks against her emotional desire to please someone she was having sexual relations with, and could she have a day or so to think about it?

He'd then changed the subject. Within three and a half seconds.

"Hey, Bones."

He sounded funny. Something was wrong.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you-huh? What? Nothing's wrong."

"Yes, there is," she insisted. "You sound odd."

Pause. Then a heartfelt sigh.

"You know, Bones. I try to set the mood, and you ruin my sexually charged contemplative thought process by thinking there's something wrong with me."

It was her turn to pause. "What?"

"I was going to ask you if you were as desperate as I was. Desperate in the usual, I really want to see you naked right now kind of way. But, no. Don't worry. I'll be there soon, and we'll try to salvage the evening somehow."

Usually she would have objected to this incorrect reasoning that she'd somehow ruined a mood, but she could hear the smile in his voice. And, she'd been right on the first guess, pretty much.

"Somehow? And didn't you want to hear my answer?"

"What was your answer?"

She shrugged, stretching a little on the couch. "Not really that desperate, after I ruined the mood and all."

She could have heard the groan if she'd been on one side of the room, and her cell on the other. Covered in pillows. Under the couch.

"Bones, remember the 'humouring your partner, just to be nice', discussion we had?"

"Oh. As opposed to the 'humouring your partner to be nice when she makes her first booty call' discussion we _should_ be having?" She retorted, annoyed.

Pause. "That was your first booty call?"

She winced, immediately feeling stupid. "No."

"That was your first booty call." He stated. "Temperance, I'm so honoured."

"Hey, you cannot say that like it's a significant achievement. It just…I never…Shut up, Booth."

You never what, Bones." He sounded amused, now. She would have wished, if she believed in wishes, to God, if she believed in God, that she'd never said anything. Ever.

But since that option wasn't available to her, she just cursed Booth and his making her feel far too much instead.

"I never felt like I had to, before."

"You don't have to with me, Bones. I don't expect stuff like that."

"No. I never felt like I _had_ to. Before."

She waited for it. The start of the teasing. _You can't resist me. I'm the man. It's my special brand of Seeley charm that's got you there, Bones_.

She'd forgotten it was Booth. She'd forgotten he knew just how to get to her.

"Well, Bones, you know what? I think you just found the mood again. I think you found the mood for the next several nights, in fact."

That was good. She benefited from that.

"Think I'm a little in love here, Bones."

She smiled. "I'm glad you managed to locate the mood again, Booth."

"Come on, Bones. Admit it."

'No."

"You love me."

"You have no evidence to support that."

"You love me. My gut knows all."

"Your gut is ineligible to testify on a witness stand."

"Mmm. But my gut, is really, really good at interrogation."

"Your gut-"

"-Remember that interrogation you were part of last week? Where you eventually disclosed your die-hard love of my numerous attractive ties?"

She remembered. He'd refused to let her out of bed until she'd divulged she liked his ties. The methods of persuasion he'd used…well. Best not to encourage that sort of behaviour on a regular basis. She'd end up admitting all sorts of things, just to keep him touching her.

"That-that interrogation did not follow correct procedural outlines."

"Yeah, biting would probably go a bit above and beyond under normal circumstances. But I'll do it, Bones-"

"-Fine! I have a deep seated attraction to you…" She took a deep breath.

"… That my_ gut_ is telling me is love."

He sighed, satisfied. "I knew you'd see things my way."

She held the phone in front of her and glared at it.

"-Bones?"

She brought it back to her ear.

"Bring food."

Then disconnected.

The phone immediately rang again. She picked up, trying to stop an involuntary grin forming.

"What?"

"We never did determine how we were gonna salvage the evening."

"Get food. That's a start."

He made a growling noise. "I _have_ food, Bones. Does Chinese suit you, your highness?"

"Yes." She stifled a laugh. Aggravating Booth was so easy, once you knew how to…what was the phrase?

Push his buttons.

Then the thought struck her he'd be here soon, and she could finally, finally, push his actual buttons.

"Uhm. So ideas for salvaging?" Her voice sounded a little breathless.

Booth chucked. "Yeah. Well, I could knock on your door…"

"And…" She prompted, closing her eyes.

"I could…well, Bones, why don't you open your door and find out?"

She opened her eyes, frowning.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

She disconnected and went to open the door.

Booth stood there, food in one hand, phone in the other.

He flipped it shut, staring at her, then carefully set the food on the ground.

She frowned at him, confused.

"Booth, what are you doing? Come in."

He took a breath, then gave her a half smile, his eyes suddenly dark.

"Uh-uh."

He reached out, grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him.

She closed her eyes, expecting to fall headlong into chaos, into dizziness and weakness and strength.

He only kissed her gently on the mouth, then tangled his hands in her hair, easing back to look at her.

"Hey, you."

She smiled, and laid a hand on his cheek. "Hey."

They looked at each other, just enjoying being together, being close.

Then Booth smiled at her.

"So. I brought food."

On hand left her hair, and went trailing down her spine.

She half closed her eyes at the sensation, then tapped his chest.

"I'm not hungry anymore. Well, not for Chinese, anyway."

Booth laughed, then, at last, kissed her deeply, walking her back into her apartment, leaving the food, and her rational mind, outside.

His hands worked their way under her shirt, and it occurred to her she was wearing too many clothes.

She pulled back a little to yank her shirt off, then fused her mouth back to his, wondering how she'd ever lived without the comfort of being in his arms, when it seemed like it was all she'd ever known.

"I'd say we salvaged the evening pretty well, don't you think?" He panted, in between kisses.

She dragged her mind back from its burial under sensation, touch, and it's current pre-occupation with the feel of Booth's shirt against the bare skin of her stomach.

"-Uhm. Evening salvaged. Check."

**Author's note.** Oh. God. Will never do that again, until they do it, a thousand times better, on the show. That was so hard! Especially trying to figure out if Brennan would actually pick up Booth's drycleaning for him- I'm actually scared by how hard that was. :D Will stick to pre-BB est rel. from now on, I think. Thanks for reading and reviewing- Muchos Gracias x A Helluva Lot.


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